Learning to Grieve
by Innoverse
Summary: When Percy gets a call about his mother that turns his whole world upside down, how does Annabeth help him handle his feelings? One-shot, Percabeth. Rated T for swearing.


**This is Innoverse here! And... here's another angsty, depressing fanfic. I just can't seem to stop writing dark stories. They bounce around in the angsty part of my head, demanding to be written down and shared with the world. So, grab a box of tissues and sit down, and read how Percy learns to deal with his feelings.**

**(I wrote this because Percy is always the one giving out comfort, but he never really deals with grief himself. He doesn't seem to really know how to respond to it.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HOO or PJATO.**

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**_- Learning to Grieve: Annabeth's POV -_**

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"Son of a gorgon! Curse you all to Tartarus! Damn it! Screw the Fates!"

Six of the seven quest members sat above deck on the _Argo II_, trying to ignore the steady stream of Greek curses, profanity, and angry growls and screams coming from below deck. But, the ship was nowhere near soundproof, and they were extremely hard to ignore. Everyone kept glancing around, as if wishing to say something, but deciding to keep their mouths shut.

Finally, Leo broke the silence. "I didn't know the Greek language had that many curses," he said quietly.

"Me either," Piper murmured.

Annabeth sighed, and set down the book she was trying—and failing—to read.

Percy was the only one not on the deck, and the source of the curses. The day before, he had received a call on Annabeth's cellphone from Paul, informing him that his mother, Sally, had been pronounced dead after a fatal car accident. Since then, he'd been angry and ill-tempered, rather then depressed and sad. He couldn't get through a single conversation without completely blowing up and storming off, cursing and kicking things. He was becoming impossible to be around.

Annabeth had tried several times to comfort him, but it always ended up in insults flying, and one or both of their feelings getting hurt. So—as he requested—Annabeth stopped trying, no matter how much she wanted to. But she was beginning to reconsider her choice—his demeanor was having a negative affect on the morale of the ship's residents.

"What's up with him?" Jason asked quietly. "I know his mother's dead... but why is he so angry about it?"

Annabeth bit her lip. "It's... his reaction."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked.

There was a thud, then the sound of something shattering. "There goes the potted plant again," Leo muttered to himself.

"He doesn't get sad," Annabeth explained, ignoring Leo. "He gets angry."

"Why?" Piper asked.

"I guess... he looks for someone to blame, rather then just grieving and then letting it go. He doesn't really do that type of emotion."

"Sadness? He doesn't do sadness?" Hazel asked.

Annabeth shook her head. "Most of the time, he doesn't do anything with grief. He'll hate himself for not doing some minuscule thing for a while, pretend he's fine, and sooner or later he'll stop feeling anything about it because everyone always counted on him to pull them together when they were grieving. They count on him to move on. He'll just shove it away somewhere, and be done with it."

"Then why is he cursing like a sailor?" Jason asked.

"It's his mother, Jason," Annabeth said. "She was all he had until he was twelve. It's probably more grief then he knows what to do with."

"Why does he push you away when you try to help?" Piper asked.

"Mostly, he's always the one giving out comfort, instead of receiving it. Actually, it's always like that. Maybe he doesn't know how to receive it."

"Maybe he just doesn't know how to grieve," Leo said quietly.

Annabeth nodded. "He's frustrated that he doesn't know what to do with the feelings, on top of all that blame. So... it results in that." Annabeth gestured weakly at the door down to the sleeping quarters.

"SON OF A _BITCH!_" There was the heavy thud resulting from him sitting down hard on the floor, followed by silence—he'd probably tired himself out, drained out the anger for the time being.

"When is he going to stop?" Hazel asked. "I hate seeing him like this."

"I don't know," Annabeth admitted. "I don't know."

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**(A/N) Fanfiction destroyed my pagebreak... not cool, guys. (not to mention I was too tired to even look over the story until the morning...)**

That night, Annabeth woke in the middle of the night to another disturbing dream from everyone's favorite goddess—Gaea. It wasn't anything new, just taunts, 'you'll never win' or 'just wait until what I send after you next' kind of generic villain comments. Annabeth could swear they wrote a book on how to be evil.

She sighed and sat up stiffly, rubbing the sleep and nightmare out of her eyes. Her eyes drifted over to Percy's sleeping bag, which was right next to hers. She expected to see Percy, sleeping fitfully and rolling around like he had for the past few nights since he'd learned about his mother, but instead the sleeping bag was completely empty. That was a little strange, since normally—even with the tossing and turning—Percy slept like a rock.

Nobody else was awake, and the light in the bathroom was dark. Where did he go?

Annabeth started to worry, so she grabbed her knife out from under her pillow, and got up out of her sleeping bag. She crept across the room, making sure he just wasn't in some corner or something. Then she checked the engine room—empty also. Finally, she went up on deck, and found him standing at the railing, staring blandly out at the ocean.

Quietly, she walked across the deck and over to him. She stood next to him, resting her hand gently on his shoulder, as if to tell him that she was there. He didn't even seem like he acknowledged her existence.

"Percy?" she said softly. "You okay?"

He dipped his head slightly, and gripped the rail harder, his knuckles turning white. "Yeah."

"You're not alright," Annabeth stated. Annabeth could practically see the walls going up, and his temper flaring.

"How do you know?" he snapped.

"Because I know you, Percy," Annabeth said quietly. "You're not acting like yourself. You—"

"Don't tell me what I'm doing!" he hissed, turning to face her. His hands shook slightly. "I know how I'm acting!"

"I don't think you do, Percy."

"Shut up!" He turned away, gripping the rail hard, like he wanted to break it. Leo wouldn't enjoy that.

Annabeth squeezed his shoulder. "You don't need to be so angry, Percy."

"I'm not angry!"

She sighed. "What's getting to you? Why are you acting so hostile?"

"I'm not hostile," he murmured.

"You told me to shut up," Annabeth pointed out.

"Maybe I did," he said. "Maybe I meant it."

"Talk to me," she urged.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's plenty, Percy, and you know it."

"Maybe I don't. Maybe I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. Talk."

He didn't say anything after that. We just stood there in silence, me staring at his face, while he continued looking out at the ocean. Annabeth sighed. "Percy, you can talk to me. I'm not going to judge you."

"I told you, already," he said. "I'm fine."

"Then why won't you talk about it?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Why are you answering my questions with questions?"

"Why won't you get over the fact that I don't want to talk about it?" He set his jaw in that stubborn way, like he wasn't going to back down. He might be stubborn, but so was I.

I turned towards him. "You're shutting everyone out, Percy."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, yes you are."

"I'm not!" he yelled.

I folded my arms. "You haven't kissed me since the phone call, Percy."

His expression softened a little. "I haven't?"

"No, you haven't. You've been too busy trying to keep me from helping you."

He looked at his shoes, and mumbled, "Maybe I'm pushing people away."

"Why?" Annabeth pressed. "Why don't you want help?"

He drew in a shaky breath. "Because... because I don't deserve it."

"_What?_" she asked. "Percy, that's not true at all."

"It's my fault!" he shouted. "She wouldn't be dead if I wasn't on this god-forsaken quest, if I'd been there to do... do... I don't know! Something!"

Annabeth sighed. "It's not your fault, Percy. There's nothing you can do, or could do. You know that, Percy. You've seen the Fates. If the string's cut, it's cut."

His hands started shaking. "I just want to blame someone," he whispered. "Why do I want to blame myself?"

"You don't need to blame someone, Percy," she said quietly. "You just need to grieve for a little while, and move on."

"I don't know how to grieve," he admitted. "I don't cry."

"Maybe you should start."

He turned to look at me. "I don't... I don't know how."

Annabeth pulled him into a hug. "Do you miss your mother, Percy?"

"A lot..." he murmured. "But... what does that have to do with crying?"

"Just think of her face, Percy," she instructed. "What makes you angry about her death?"

"That... that I never get to see her again," he murmured. "That I wasn't there for her when she was dying, even though she was there for me my entire life and that I couldn't do anything to help her, and that I'm not going to be able to come home to her and... and..."

His voice cracked. He placed his head on Annabeth's shoulder, and she felt wetness seep into her shirt. He shook a little as he cried into her, and she rubbed his back gently. Soon, it went from a few tears, to complete sobbing as all his walls fell away, and he broke down. Annabeth held him, just like he had held her all those years ago in Siren Bay, and many more times in the future. She finally was able to return some of the comfort he'd given her during their friendship.

"I miss her, Annabeth," he moaned through tears. "Why did she have to die?"

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**Thank the gods this isn't canon. I'd die of sadness if Sally actually died. She's too amazing of a character for Rick to take her out of the fray. And Paul... he'd be devastated. But anyways, reviews are appreciated. Zeus won't blast you outta the sky if you decided not to, though. **


End file.
